


Finding Home: Interlude

by Pink_Dalek



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 02:57:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_Dalek/pseuds/Pink_Dalek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during my story, <i>Finding Home</i>. Morse's first night with the Thursdays. He needs a bit of mothering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Home: Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little fluffy scene I thought of.

Morse went to bed early. He was still frustratingly tired from his wound and the surgery. It had felt good to finally have a proper shower and wash his hair. The bed was comfortable, the faint sounds of conversation and activity downstairs soothing, and he quickly dropped off to sleep. He slept through the others getting ready for bed and settling in, even through Fred checking on him with paternal concern.

"The lad's dead to the world," Fred reported, climbing in next to Win.

A few hours later, Morse was gradually driven from a deep sleep by throbbing pain in his wound. It was healing well, but there had been a lot of tissue injury, both from the wound and the resulting infection, and would take time to heal completely. In the hospital someone had been there to give him a painkiller even before he needed it, but he'd forgotten to take one before bed. His suitcase lay open on a folding stand nearby, and he limped over to rummage for the pill bottle, leaving the light off to keep from blinding himself. Finally he felt the outline that was getting all too familiar and tiptoed to the loo for a glass of water.

Between raising two children and having a husband who still had occasional nightmares about the war, Win had the well-honed ability to sleep deeply, yet still be alert to trouble. The slightly limping tread, soft though it was, roused her. Morse then, tiptoeing back to Sam's room from the loo.

Morse climbed back into bed and tried to settle, but waiting for the painkiller to work felt like an eternity. He was bone-tired, hurting, and desperately wanted to go back to sleep. He put a hand over the small bandage he still wore and stifled a groan, wishing they'd left him on morphine for a few more days.

It was his fault, though. If he'd taken the pill when he was supposed to, this wouldn't be happening. Between the gunshot, his father's death, and the hospital stay, his brain had turned to mush. At least he was off duty for several more days; he'd be bloody useless on a case right now. 

Win's sharp ears heard the faint groan. She slipped from the bed without rousing her husband and put on a dressing gown over her nightdress.

Morse was just shifting uncomfortably when his door opened, startling him until he recognized Win in the dim light that came past the curtains.

"What's wrong, love?"

"Forgot to take my pain pill before bed. I'm sorry I woke you."

"It's all right." She perched on the bed, checking his forehead for fever. His temperature felt normal, but he was sweating slightly from pain. Gently she stroked his hair back from his face, noting the way he leaned into it like a cat. "Sit up a bit." She fluffed up his pillow, turning it to the cool side. He leaned back into it with a sigh. "Back in a minute."

He heard her go downstairs and move about in the kitchen. She returned with a glass of cold water, which he drank gratefully, and an ice pack. He sighed with relief as he pressed it against the bandage, the pain beginning to ease immediately.

She gave his hair one last stroke, letting her hand linger on his cheek for a long moment. "Thank you," he murmured, though for the ice pack, the concern, or the mother's touch he'd hungered for since his mum died, he wasn't sure. It was all jumbled up inside.

"Sleep well, Morse." He was so exhausted he was already starting to drowse, and mumbled something she couldn't make out in response. She rose, patting him on the shoulder, and tiptoed from the room, leaving the door slightly ajar so she could listen out for him. Win crept back to bed, Fred immediately spooning against her in his sleep. With the other bedroom quiet, she soon let herself fall back to sleep, trusting that ever-watchful part of herself to let her know if she was needed again.


End file.
